37 - DEVLIN

“Shoes?” I ask Corbyn as he guides me into the store.

“You would think you could walk down the aisle in bare feet.”

As soon as we enter, there’s a lineup of three women greeting us and, with a wave of one’s hand, the doors lock behind us.

I look up at Corbyn, who looks his regular-unimpressed-self. “You would close ‌an entire store.”

“They’ve lined up several pre-approved options. Go try them on.”

Right. I walk over to where one of the women, who is a bit older, is waiting for me. The other two are hovering around Corbyn, adjusting their hair and batting their eyelashes like he’ll suddenly fall in love with them.

I’m not even sure he’s capable of such a thing. Good luck to his mate.

“Take a seat, dear, and we can get started. Is there a pair that’s jumping out at you?”

She unstraps my shoes as I look at the lineup. Every single pair is white, with a high heel to it and some kind of detail that seems unnecessary.

“One that looks like it would match with your dress?” She a